Her Name was Heather
by HumanDictionary
Summary: "I loved someone who loved me." A middle school friendship between Cheryl and Heather blossoms into something more. Pre-Riverdale
1. She was my Best Friend in Junior High

_**in·sep·a·ra·ble**_ _inˈsep(ə)rəb(ə)l/_ _(adj.)_ _unable to be separated or treated separately. (n)_ _a person or thing inseparable from another._

This was the only word that could perfectly describe Cheryl Blossom and Heather Michaels. The two middle school girls were practically glued to the hip and had much in common in many respects. They were born a week apart from each other, they both dreamed of being on the River Vixens come high school, they both shared an affinity for drawing and they both had older siblings in their families that were held up as a golden child.

But even deeper than that, each girl filled a need for the other; Heather was a military brat constantly moving around the country with her mother. As such, she never seemed to make any lasting friendships and jumped at the chance to finally make some social roots upon her mother's honorable discharge from the Coast Guard as well as their family's subsequent move to Riverdale; as such, Cheryl was the first major connection to her new permanent hometown. Moreover, Cheryl was quick to ensure her social safety, meaning that her history as the constant punching bag of bullies came to a stop (or at the very least slowed down).

In return, Heather kept the Blossom girl grounded, giving her a perspective outside the stuffy and privileged world she and her brother Jason knew all so well, and in many was the only person who really knew what she was all about. As impressive as Thornhill was, the place gave off a vibe of _Dark Shadows_ rather than _MTV Cribs_. But within its edifice, Cheryl's life came with neglect from her mother and fear of some threat her mother called the Sugarman; facts of life no amount of money can make go away.

On one nondescript day as the schoolyear wound down for the summer, Cheryl and Heather took advantage of the seasonable weather and went to the bank of the Sweetwater River to sketch wildlife after class. As Cheryl finished sketching a Red Wing Blackbird, when Heather began to pack her book up.

"What is it?"

"I feel like going for a swim." Heather replied. "You in?"

"Oh, um…I didn't bring any swimming stuff with me."

"Oh, is that all!" Heather laughed. "I keep a spare in my backpack."

"But what will you wear?"

Rather than answer, Heather begins to peel off her shirt and slip out of her cutoff shorts revealing a red and white stripped bikini (think something akin to a candy cane). Cheryl looks up and finds herself in awe of her friend's swimwear. Of the two, Heather was the plainer girl but something in the Blossom girl stirred over her friend suddenly became this ebony goddess whose attire fits her body like a second skin; accentuating every curve and beautifully contrasting her rich and brown complexion.

"I assume you like what you're seeing, eh Cheryl?" Heather giggled.

After emitting a mortified 'eep!' Cheryl grabbed her friend's spare bikini and ducked behind a shrubbery to change. Amidst this process, she found herself repeatedly watching her friend splashing and frolicking about the Sweetwater like a mermaid.

A very attractive mermaid.

"Hey Cheryl!" She called out. "If you're doing your business back there remember the leaf of three rule!"

"Keep your top on I'm coming out."

The two girls burned the afternoon away swimming and sunbathing to their heart's content. For one, it was a relaxing jaunt beneath the river's surface, a chance to fully surrender to nature's beauty. For the other, it was a breathtaking and confusing rollercoaster that not only left her stomach in knots, but lasted well past sundown. Try as she wished to, Cheryl Blossom failed to purge the sight of Heather in her bikini that afternoon from her mind's eye.

 _This time however, things are different; As much as Cheryl fought to keep holding her breath, Heather was enticing her further into the depths of the Sweetwater. The river teems with life around the two girls, in particular schools of fish paired up two by two and shaped like the Venus symbol. As they reach the bottom, Cheryl gives one final hesitant look towards the river's surface then at her best friend._

" _Cheryl," She whispers. "Believe me, there is nothing there for you…"_

 _Heather leans in and kisses Cheryl. As their lips part, the redheaded girl inhales sharply and finds her breath restored._

"… _stay with me, my beloved. My dearest of friends"_

Cheryl woke up in a cold sweat from her dream with a jolt. It had all felt so real and yet too good to be true. Heather could never feel like that for her, after all she had the serious hots for Chuck Clayton and…well, who could blame her? Shaven hair, deep brown eyes, already developing a respectable physique. No girl stood a chance.

Lunch was silent the next day. While Heather talked about the plans she and her family were going to have for the summer, Cheryl just munched on her cherry yogurt and quizzically stared at the boys a table over. A lot of them were cute and all, but something always bought her thoughts back to Heather.

"…anyway it's out in the wide open of Pennsylvania. Cheryl? Cheryl?"

"Huh? Oh." She said. "I was just…umm…"

"Oh, I see." She said devilishly grinning. "I'm talking about astronomy camp and you're distracted with other heavenly bodies."

"…"

"Hey, stare all you want. I don't blame you." She shrugged. "We got a whole parade of studs right here and whose to say they're not staring at us when we're not looking? So Cheryl, between us girls, any in particular catch your eye?"

" _The one right next to me_." The Blossom girl thinks to herself.


	2. She Used to Sleep Over Every Weekend

Saturday nights only meant one thing as far as Cheryl and Heather were concerned; sleepovers.

Almost religiously the two girls practically lived together Saturday night into Sunday morning, each taking turns hosting the other at first. But in time, and at Penelope's insistence, Heather was to come to Thornhill. Once a month however, the little house on the corner of Goldwater Ave and DeCarlo Way was filled with the sound of two gossiping over their classmates, blasting boy band songs, and the hushed giggles over purloining the occasional PG-13 or R rated film from Mrs. Michael's movie shelf once everyone else had gone to sleep. This week was to be one of those weeks.

The redhead prepubescent looked once over at her belongings as she laid them out on the bed. Sometimes she wondered whether or not packing was worth it. Heather wasn't stingy about most toiletries (shampoo/conditioner and toothpaste), and both girls' were nearly identical when it came to shirt sizes, so bringing her own stuff was mostly a matter of principle at this point. In fact, a small smile came to her face as she looked at the shirt she packed; a red t-shirt with the words Coast Guard emblazoned on the front. Mrs. Michaels accidentally ordered two and Heather claimed the spare. During a closet clean-out, the shirt found its way into Cheryl's wardrobe, mostly to make laundry day easier between the two of them.

Cheryl unfolded the shirt and took a deep whiff of it, cuddling the garment close to her heart as she exhaled. The thought of this shirt and how once upon a time Heather's body once touched this fabric triggered a sensation in her stomach akin to the butterflies flittering about. With a lovesick smile, she laid down on her little canopy bed, savoring the thought of how her friend's scent wove itself into each thread through the years.

A sudden rapping at the door brings the Blossom girl crashing back to earth. She tosses the shirt aside and yelps nervously for the intruder to enter. Once the door opens and Jason (not mother Penelope) reveals himself to be the intruder, she breathes an internal sigh of relief.

"Oh, hey sis. Just checking on ya." The Blossom lad said. "Mom's just wondering when you're ready to go to Heathers' house is all."

"Yeah, she probably is isn't she?" Cheryl said snippily.

"Something wrong there?" Jason asks. "You look flushed."

"No it's…" Cheryl began. "It's just…I don't see what mom's deal is with me sleeping over at the Michaels' house."

" _BecaUSe wE're blOssOMS dAAAAHHHLiNg_ ," he replied dramatically with a laugh. " _Why should we submit to the degradation of some hovel when we have ThoRNHiLL as home_?"

Cheryl chuckled at her brother's antics and smiled deeply into his eyes.

"What Cheryl?" He said.

"It's funny." She sighed. "Mom and dad try to pit us against each other. You the golden boy they groom to be heir to the Blossom syrup empire, me the unwanted train wreck daughter that will most likely have a Paris Hilton-esque fluke pop/acting career and eventual public meltdown to her name. We should be at each other's throats, and yet, it's almost like you're my soulmate."

"If anything happened to you…" He began embracing her. "It'd be the end of me."

"And if anything were to happen to you…" She sighed unable to end her sentence.

"Now, now." He whispered. "Let's not start crying. You've got a place to be."

"You're right." She replied bounding from her brother's arms and grabbing her belongings for the night. "Let's not keep mummy waiting."

The Michaels' house was a ranch-style abode, unassuming in nature save for its Bittersweet Orange paintjob. Penelope's Towncar barely came to a halt when Heather leapt out of the front door and toward the vehicle like it contained the secret to immortality. As Mrs. Blossom gestured for the car to go, she gave the house one final odious look as it peeled down the street, her face curling into a sour snarl over the thoughts of what her daughter was bounding towards.

By contrast, Cheryl's presence that Saturday, and all the Saturdays since the two girls' friendship began, warmed the cockles Mrs. Cindy Michaels' heart. As much as she regretted nothing in her years of service to the U.S. Coast Guard and relished in achieving the rank of Commander, she also wanted some semblance of normalcy for her children, both of whom were studious but socially ambivalent in their own rights. Heather was the more sociable of her two children, but she always seemed to have difficulty making friends regardless of her desire to. Even then, she was quick to eschew any activity involving 5+ people after years of torment from other children. By contrast, her older son Ian (despite his distressingly uncanny resemblance to Kocoum but with glasses) was an inflexibly solitary and a self-proclaimed gynophobe, whose only loves in life appeared to be marine biology and dodge ball.

"Cheryl!" She cried joyously.

"Mrs. M!" Cheryl replied as she came in to return the woman's embrace.

"Oh, call me 'mother'" She pshawed. "At this point, you're practically family."

"Yes mom." Cheryl replied as she and Heather raced toward the front door.

"Don't you want to at least not leave your stuff around?" Ian asked. To which his mother clucked disapprovingly at him.

"Oop! Sorry about that."

Cheryl raced back towards her belongings and put them to the side by the steps in a neat pile before joining Heather at the threshold, Cindy watched the two of them scamper into the horizon, sighing to herself "Oh, bless my heart the dearies."

As the day faded into night, the two girls made the most of their time together with a romp to the Twilight Drive-In followed by a stroll through the Army-Navy store. Usually they banned minors, but since Ian worked there part time and was a good employee, his kid sister and her friend were an exception so long as they didn't buy any weaponry. When the girls came back, Cindy ordered in a couple of pizzas and retired within the hour. Shortly thereafter, Ian departed the house for a game dodgeball with some friends from the gym, essentially leaving them unsupervised by 9pm. To cap the night off, they raided the closet and headed into the basement. After playing every game on the shelf and reaching an impasse over which movie to watch from Mrs. Michael's shelf, the two girls decided to play that clichéd granddaddy of all girl's slumber party games: truth or dare.

"Ok Cheryl, you're the guest so go first."

"Alright, truth or dare."

"Dare."

"I dare you to grab a pair of your brother's socks."

For all of ten minutes, such trivial shenanigans and fluff questions ("What is your obsession with the color red?" "Where was the most interesting place you lived?") were the order of the night. Then Heather hauled out the guns.

"Cheryl, Truth or Dare."

"Truth"

"Any boys that caught your eye?"

"Well, a few to be honest."

"Ooh, spill you dirty little slut."

"Archie, because he reminds me a lot of my brother. I can see Reggie making a couple of girlhoods tremble down the road…"

Cheryl suddenly got quiet.

"Then…" she continued whispering. "There's Chuck."

"Wait? _MY_ Chuck."

Cheryl nodded ashamedly, an act which elicited a deep fit of laughter from Heather.

"Ohmigoooood. You thought we were a couple? Oh, honey no. No." She said once she caught her breath. "No, he acts like my boyfriend and...yeah i put up with it, but he and I really bonded because for the longest time we felt like the only black kids at school. He's yours if you want him, hell I'll even play wing-woman."

Cheryl smiled.

"Ok Heather, truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Same question: Any boys that caught your eye?"

Now it was Heather's turn to go silent. She sighed, knowing someone was bound to ask the question. After some further coaxing from her guest she felt the time was right. After all, someone had to know.

"Well…" She began. "You know that in all thirteen years of my life I moved around a lot. I never made any lasting friendships with boys or girls, let alone see them bloom into the potential for something stronger. But, in all that time I came to the realization that boys and I never really…"

"So you never were really ready for boys? I mean, it's ok if you're a late bloomer-"

"No." She said. "I… Are you familiar with a Greek island called Lesbos?"

Cheryl let the word roll around in her mouth before shaking her head.

"Lesbos was the home of Sappho, a prominent poet in ancient times commonly considered the foremost face of love between two women. From that, we today get the term _lesbian_."

Cheryl looked at her friend for a long time, then down to her stomach which hours ago was a mess of feelings over Heather's shirt.

"And by love you mean…"

"Like I'm supposed to feel for a boy. Like I hoped to feel for Chuck." She said slowly. "I knew something was up years ago when we lived in New Orleans and I was asked to get something from my brother's room. He left a corner of this magazine out that had pictures of girls in their underwear, some even less than that. Something in me stirred upon finding it. Then we had our neighbors Gloria and Janet that threw these pool parties with all women. I'd watch them from my room and feel something missing, and when I found a word for this feeling I…I felt like I was whole again. But I could never say it. Until now. I, Heather Michaels am a lesbian. I haven't and will never feel butterflies in my stomach over a boy."

For what felt like forever, the two of them stared at each other; silence hovering over them like an awkward fart.

Though outwardly shocked by the intensity of what had been bared before her, Cheryl's stomach felt like she had eaten a crate of firecrackers. Not only was she far from alone in sharing these burgeoning feelings, but she could share them with, of all people, her dearest and closest friend. Heather meanwhile returned her eyes southward and waited for the barrage of 'icks' and slurs to come.

"If you want to leave, I understand." She said slowly.

"No." Cheryl said coming close to her. "I believe it was my turn anyway."

"Ok. Truth or da-"

Before Heather could finish her question, Cheryl leapt close and began to kiss Heather's cheek hungrily.

"Truth 1. You are my best friend in the world, and you liking girls will never change that or make me feel awkward."

Another kiss.

"Truth 2. You've always given me a butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, but after that day swimming in the Sweetwater River, I just…ached for you. Yearned for your embrace."

A third lingering kiss on the lips.

"Truth 3. I'm never letting you go."


	3. Until one night, my mother caught us

**(Monday)**

" _Don't turn backwards. It will only hurt more_."

It's no secret that junior high is hell, especially for girls; all one needs to do is pick up a book like _Queen Bees and Wannabees,_ _Untangled_ , or _Odd Girl Out_ to learn what a confusing and dramatic mess of hormones adolescence can be in a young girl's life. For Heather and Cheryl, the potential for added drama within their peer group in regards to their affections for each other was about as needed as kerosene to a forest fire.

In the span of time since each realized they were destined to be more than just friends, the two girls entered the doors of Riverdale Junior High not as students but rather as actors playing the role of 'totally straight BFFS.' Heather continued to use Chuck as her beard, while Cheryl relished in being the unobtainable princess spreading disharmony among the equally hormone-addled boys with each breath she took.

Three months into their relationship, Heather's academic evaluations proved themselves sufficient enough to be advanced two grades. While it helped keep enough distance to quell suspicions, it limited their time together at school to lunch, recess, and the occasional PE class. Though time had passed and each had eased into this routine, two girls continued to feel the pang of loss as they marched together to the doors, only to walk the opposite direction down the main hallway. Outwardly, Cheryl and Heather acted as diligent sixth and eighth graders (respectively), inwardly they waited for the lunch bell to ring so they could take their all-but-reserved seats and commiserate about their day.

"It's unfair because…it's really not about him. It's me. And I know it." She continued. "I don't want to hate Ian, but listening to mom and her attempts to pry anything out of him regarding women and dating is like a hot knife to the stomach. Because, let's face it; as much as mom may be all smiles and stuff that we're friends, but my house isn't exactly Castro Street. As it is, she's already tried this new tactic of getting Ian interested in girls which involves turning the dining room table into a repository for every pamphlet for conversion therapy this state has published."

"Yikes." Cheryl whispered.

"It's really frightening."

"What's frightening, Babe?" Came Chuck's voice.

The two girls were powerless as the men added sausage to their little clambake. Chuck took his place on Heather's right while Archie, Reggie and Moose shuffled around the table, each looking to get the closest to Cheryl.

"That new movie that's coming out." Cheryl suddenly piped up. " _Terror on Turkey Hill_.

It's too much, and quite timely considering Thanksgiving is this week."

"Aww, the girls are all a'scared of a stupid movie." Reggie giggled. To which Archie elbowed his gut.

"Well, I propose the five of us head on down to the Bijou and discern for ourselves tomorrow night." Archie said. "It is PG-13 after all, and this will be the first movie we can see like this without the 'rents!"

While the table heartily agreed and began to make plans from there, Heather glanced at her girlfriend in wonderment over how she of all people was going to attend this. While her mom was glad about their friendship, the Michael's house tried to 'keep it PG' in all manner of living.

Cheryl was not worried and responded with a look as if to say that as long as she played up the 'group' aspect, her mom shouldn't be all that much of an issue.

 **(Tuesday)**

"Oh my God, this is so stupid." Cheryl giggles to her friend.

"Tell me about it." Heather whispered back. "My left hand and a mousetrap have better chemistry than the leading couple."

"Oh and how about these Oscar-worthy lines. 'Goddamit, they're gobbling us now!'"

Heather snorts into her drink then nudges at Cheryl to take a look at Moose, Chuck, Reggie and Archie squirming in their seats and whispering their respective feelings on that night's cinematic bill of fare.

"Dude, this is messed up."

"I know, how the hell did those turkeys learn to operate a chainsaw like that?"

"And when they all descended on Farmer Withers like that…jeez, I'll never eat Swine's Skull again!"

"Why did the girls want to see this again?"

The scene suddenly cut to a headless farmer strapped to the front of his tractor crashing through the living room of his house. As the turkeys pecked the remaining family members to death, all bets were off. A bloodcurdling screech arose from the foursome of boys while Heather and Cheryl howled with laughter at an equal level of volume over the obviously horrid CGI rendering of the crash. As Heather convulsed, she accidentally kicked over Cheryl's cherry coke.

"Oh crap. I am soooo sorry!" Heather said.

"Ah, I'm made of money." Cheryl replied wiping herself off. "I got this."

While the redhead girl bounded back towards the concession stand, Heather took one last look at the boys. Reggie Mantle suddenly stirs as Cheryl reaches the door and slowly makes his way out of his seat. One did not need light to see where the boy was going with this. Heather follows at a distance and observes the boy's prepubescent attempts to mack on her secret girlfriend. She just wanted Cheryl to be safe.

"So, Cheryl…" he begins. "Quite a flick, huh?"

"Please, films like this are why CineMockers is a thing." Cheryl chided. "I'd bet every brick of Thistlehouse that four-year-olds would roll their eyes over what passes as 'horror' in this."

"Uh…right." The boy said quickly to himself. "Yeah, *ahem* it's a complete stinker."

"Oh don't kid yourself Mr. Macho." The redheaded girl laughed teasingly. "Heather and I found the spectacle of you and the other guys cowering behind your popcorn tubs to be almost as entertaining as the film."

Reggie let out a mortified sigh. It was already obvious to his friends that he like all the other young boys found himself saddled with a massive crush on Cheryl, but now to know that _she_ laughed in the face of a movie _he_ found deeply terrifying added insult to injury. Fortunately, the concessionist clearing his throat and inquiring of what he was to order bought the Andrews boy back to earth.

"Oh, um, another thing of gummy bears." Reggie replied quickly as he forked over the money.

"A package of gummy bears for you and a refill of Cherry Cola for the young lady." The man behind the counter replied as he handed them their orders. "Have a good date you two."

The two preadolescents looked at each other over the clerk's innocent remark and blushed all the way back to the theater. After what felt like eons passing, Cheryl let out a chuckle as they neared the door.

"Ha! He thinks we're on a date." She began nervously. "I mean, you and me, we're just two friends of a larger group seeing a movie…right?..."

"Look Cheryl," Reggie sighed. "I know I can be a complete idiot sometimes and…You got every guy in school falling from trees for you…and…"

It all happened so fast. Reggie decided to let his lips do what his words couldn't and kiss Cheryl. Cheryl was taken aback for a moment, but eased into the brash boy's advances as if they were meant to be. She closes her eyes and embraces Mantle's mandibles, ignorant to a very irate figure bounding towards them.

 **(Wednesday)**

An hour past the breaking of noon and Cheryl continued to aimlessly wander through the Blossom family cemetery as the last conversation with Heather played in a loop.

* _"How COULD you!"_ *

 _*"I…What about_ _him_ _?!…I didn't consent to that? I didn't ask or permit him to-"*_

 _*You didn't have to like it either! You could've pushed Reggie away! You could have told him no, or kicked him, or showed some iota of resistance towards his advances."*_

It was true.

Despite professing her love for Heather and inward opinions on Reggie as something of an ass around women, something about kissing him felt confusingly good and dare she say it, magical. The world around her slowed down once she found herself in his arms and while she wasn't seeking him specifically, a boy's mouth felt…kinda nice.

But it wasn't love.

Love was always going to be in the arms of Heather Michaels. The Heather Michaels who knew her heart like an open book, the Heather Michaels whose vulnerability mirrored hers in that all too perfect way that goes beyond the surface.

 _*"I love you Heather. I…want you, and need you. You and you alone."*_

 _*"How about you act like it then?! How about restraining yourself next time you think passing for straight includes tonsil hockey with some random dude?!"*_

The feeling of a gentle hand on her shoulder brings Cheryl's train of thought to a screeching halt. She turns her head upward to see Jason looking over her with concern.

"Hey." He says slowly. "I know you're not the type to cry but you've been quiet all day. Is something wrong?"

Cheryl wanted to say no. She could feel it forming on the tip of her tongue then dissipate in the form of a sigh. This wasn't Penelope it was Jason, her twin brother. If anyone deserved the key to her innermost thoughts and feelings, it was him.

"I think I messed things up with Heather." She began.

"Your friend?" He began. "Yikes."

"We went to a movie and she caught Reggie kissing me."

"Ah, the classic love triangle." He said. "Boy meets girl and busts up a friendship in the process."

"Not exactly." Cheryl began. "Heather and I are…close."

It took Jason a couple of seconds but she could see the wheels in his head turning. He catches on and nods. He's slightly surprised by this admission.

"So the two of you…"

"Girlfriends." Cheryl finished. "But last night, we went with some friends and I got kissed by Reggie. And…I…I didn't exactly hate what happened. In fact, part of me wouldn't mind it happening again. Not with _him_ specifically, but the overall experience. Does that make sense?"

"Well, where would that leave Heather?"

"That's the thing. I love her. I love her so much and feel so dirty and wrong every time I want that experience again." She sobbed. "And now she's left the state for Thanksgiving and won't be back until tomorrow night. For all I know, she's decided to break up with me."

Jason sighs again.

"Cheryl. I don't know what got said between the two of you before she left." He says. "And I don't know what I can say that will help, or hurt. But you're my sister and I'll be there whether Heather is in your life or not."

 **(Thursday)**

Heather hated Thanksgiving.

It wasn't that she was the ungrateful sort. Far from it, she had a lot to be thankful for this year, especially when it came to Cheryl. But, as far as the traditions and pageantry went, she felt it reeked of pretension and sanctimony. They dragged Mee-Maw Lilly out of the nursing home and gathered at Aunt Maura and Uncle Robert's McMansion half a state away in what always seemed to feel like a bad fanfic version of Norman Rockwell's _Freedom from Want_ ; the meal that looked great, but never picture perfect (much to someone's chagrin), the barely tolerated sounds of the Lacey's Holiday Parade blaring in the background, and chatter between Ian and his mother as he introduced his new girlfriend Tatiana. Just as Santa's float came into view Cindy called the family to seat themselves for dinner. Both Cindy and her sister took their places at the heads of the table while their respective broods and their guests filled out the six other seats.

Heather pulls out her phone and begins to scroll through the camera roll, stopping once she sees the selfie of her and Cheryl outside the Bijou. A sad wave courses through her as she looks at the image of Cheryl Blossom back at her. Even if they couldn't be lovers, there had to be a chance that some level friendship could be salvaged between the two of them; there just had to be. She couldn't stand the thought of being alone anymore. She wonders these things until the hand of her mother snatches the phone like a voracious raptor making its meal out of some hapless rodent.

"Phones away when we're about to say Grace." She said stashing it away in the nearby linen closet.

One tradition the Michaels had at Thanksgiving was that after prayers but before serving themselves, each member was charged to state something they were thankful for. For Maura's half of the family, it seemed to be the same thing; financial stability. Bill was thankful that he was kept on as manager after his company was purchased by Lodge Industries, Maura was thankful that she didn't have to worry about finances anymore, and Craig was thankful for all the friends he was making at Morewood Private School. Mee-Maw was thankful to have her health and to have lived to see her grandchildren growing up before her eyes.

"…Well" began Cindy. "I'm always thankful for the chance to give back and serve this country. But this year, I'm thankful that my children seem to be adjusting to civilian life in Riverdale. Heather has found a friend in Cheryl. And my boy, the spitting image of his father, has finally met a wonderful woman to settle down with."

Ian gingerly took Tatiana by the hand and kissed it. To which she smiled serenely and helped herself to some peas and turkey. As the rest of the family cooed over the spectacle, only Heather could smell the bullshit.

"And what about you young lady?" Aunt Maura asked. "What are you thankful for this year?"

"I'm thankful that I found a friend at school in Cheryl." She replied quickly before helping herself to a leg of turkey. Her mother nodded disappointedly that she didn't go any further, but begrudgingly conceded that she did follow the rules that had been set and that she wouldn't be able to say anything more as bits of poultry filled the space between her jaws.

After a while, Heather found the whole scene overwhelming. With a belly full of food, she took her phone from the linen closet and looked for someplace out of the way to crash and sleep while digesting. The backseat of Ian's car was always unlocked and comfy too. He even kept an old army blanket in back. As she situated herself to her liking, Heather felt her phone pinging away. She looked up to see a text from Cheryl.

 **CB: Heath, I know you want to kill me for Tuesday but I miss you. Mom is insufferable, dad just left to deal with business and Jason's talking with Nana. I wish you were here because you're all I'll ever be thankful for.**

Heather smiled sadly as she drifted off to sleep. Perhaps there was a chance at reconciliation after all.

Suddenly, the engine of Ian's car began to turn and the front door of the house opened and shut. Heather stirred momentarily and looked to see her brother and Tatiana exiting the house. The later half of the couple pulls a folded wad of leather from a shopping bag which upon unfurling is revealed to be a leather jacket . From inside the car Heather's eyes widen as she makes out the logo on the back of her jacket in the anemic light of the porch; a green two headed snake in the shape of an "S".

Ever the gentleman, Ian opens the front passenger door for his date. As he rounds his way to the driver's seat, Heather hears Tatiana sighing luxuriously and whispering how she missed the feeling of the coat that now drapes over her body. Before long, she felt the car moving forward and peeks out from under her blanket to better eavesdrop on Ian and Tatiana's conversation.

"See, what'd I tell you; you were a woman and I bought you. This worked like a charm."

"Ah, but I'm sure your mom would think I'm girlfriend of the year in this number."

"Well, I think your coat is sexy." Ian said playfully.

"Easy champ. You know girls are my thing." Tatiana said with a chuckle. "Cards on the table though, you're a lot better than most of the boys I've dated, and we do make a cute couple. You the attractive yet aromantic army brat, me the tough-as-nails bisexual biker girl, both of us looking to run away from the circumstances life throws at us. Something poetic in it all, isn't there?"

"I guess." He said. "But why couldn't it be?"

"Because nobody leaves the Serpents really." Tatiana sighed sadly. "The last guy that tried is now the fricking leader. And my cousin… I cry for the day she has to dance."

Ian comforts his fake girlfriend, allowing her head to rest upon his shoulder for the remainder of the night. Two blocks later, the car comes to a halt outside the Sunnyside Trailer Park where they bid their goodbyes.

"Can I… please your number?" Ian asks. "…In case I need another fake girlfriend?"

Tatiana stops for a bit and mulls over his request with a chuckle. Ultimately, she walks back to his truck and puts her cell number in his contacts.

"You're lucky. Most guys who try and get my number get the recruitment line to the Riverdale chapter of the KKK." She said giving him a friendly but lingering kiss on the cheek. "See you at work. Ian."

After watching Tatiana enter her trailer and adjusting his rear-view mirror, Ian starts up his vehicle and pulls away into the night.

"The eavesdropping can end at any time Heather."

Startled, the young girl's head pokes out from her hiding space and shoots her older brother an indignant and quizzical glance.

"You don't think I noticed my blanket strewn about like horseshit back there?" He said. "I knew something was up."

"I bet they're worried sick."

"For a while." He said. "I told them you went to nap in the guest room and locked the door so as not to be disturbed. They bought it hook, line, and sinker."

"Like mom did with you and Tat." She replied.

"I'd appreciate you not saying anything further on the matter. Especially to mom." Ian remarked gravely. "I only did this in an attempt to get her out of my ass about girls. I didn't think I'd ever…anyway."

"What's a bisexual?" Heather suddenly asked.

"That's when a person is attracted to both members of the same and different sex." He replied. "Let's say, for example, if your little friend Cheryl was bi, she'd be sexually attracted to both men and women. She can't choose that attraction, but it doesn't change the love she may have for whomever she wants to share a monogamous relationship with. Does that help?"

Heather froze, mentally replaying her last argument with Cheryl before leaving and how harsh she was about Reggie. Try as she might to keep that tear from rolling down her cheek and coming to rest at the base of her chin, she fails and begins to sob vehemently.

"Heather, what is it?"

"I have something to say…"

 **(Friday)**

Pop's Choklit Shoppe was one of the few places in Riverdale where the maddening spirit of Black Friday dare not show itself. True the place was busy as people sat in the booth and enjoyed their non-leftover lunches and sweets, but there was still a sense of calm that most don't associate with the kickoff of the Christmas shopping season.

In one of these seats by the counter sat a red-headed girl forlornly poking at a strawberry milkshake. Lost in her own depression, she barely registers the little bells that jingle as the door to Pops opens. But an all too familiar voice placing an order brings Cheryl out of her funk:

"Mint Chocolate Chip Malt to go please."

Cheryl looks up to see Heather sitting two seats over. She averts her eyes, not out of anger but contrition, as the redhead girl scoots next to her. Before Cheryl could open her mouth, Pop Tate hands Heather her order and she leaves as quickly as she had entered upon paying. Cheryl asks for a to-go cup and promptly follows Heather to the side of Pop's.

"Hi." Cheryl begins nervously.

"Hi."

"So…your holiday…"

"-went well. Everyone was tolerable. You?"

"I…" Cheryl began. "I can't do this. I'm sorry Heather. I'm sorry that I wound up making out with Reggie. I can tell you I'm ashamed until my lungs explode but if you can't accept it just do it. Break up with me and be done."

Heather slowly turns to her girlfriend and plants a demure kiss where the tears flowed. Shock grips the preteen Blossom once the other girls' lips draw away.

"No sweetheart, I'm the one who should be sorry." Heather said slowly. "It's true. I was mad …well, mad not at you, but more at circumstance. I thought coming to Riverdale would be different."

"How so?" asks Cheryl as they both seat themselves on the steps of Pops.

"I'm twelve years old, and I've seen more of the U.S. than probably anyone I've ever met." She began. "And the one thing that remained the same was that everywhere we seemed to go, I would enter a school with a target on my back. In Kentucky, I once spent half the day locked inside the trophy case of my brother's middle school. In New Jersey, I lost a phone to some girls who coated it with peanut butter and left it on an anthill. In New Orleans I thought a girl wanted to be my girlfriend but set me up with a date with the school bullies."

Cheryl shook her head as tears began to fall down Heather's eyes.

"Then when we moved here, you…of all people…were chosen to show me around." She continued. "And when you took my hand, I felt…well…whole. You came to be not only my best friend but the first friend I ever had in all my life. I couldn't lose you. I couldn't begin to tell you how much it meant that one sleepover we played truth or dare. I bared my soul to you and you reciprocated. Then…seeing you with Reggie. Fucking Reggie of all people…"

"Heather I am so, so sorry." Cheryl began. "I'm sorry that I kissed Reggie, even if he was the one that instigated it. But od you're expecting me to be sorry that kissing him felt good on some level, I can't-"

"Because you're Bisexual." Ian's voice suddenly answered.

Cheryl stood agape as Heather scooted over allowing her brother to join them. Who knew a word for her feelings existed.

"Heather told me everything last night in the greatest of confidence. Something in my gut told me the two of you had something more going on. And…well, maybe it's not my place to say, but my sister is the luckiest girl in the world because her girlfriend could have picked anyone in the world to love and share her life with."

"But all I want is you; now and forever if you'll have me." Cheryl added as she pulled Heather in for a kiss.

"Now and forever." Heather replied before their lips touched.

 **(Saturday)**

Needless to say, Saturday's traditional sleepover was indeed on.

The silence that stifled Thornhill unnerved the Blossom matriarch as she sat in the common room and watched the fire. Cheryl and ... _that girl_ had always been a rambunctious twosome; sliding down the banister, blasting the "music" whatever insipid boy-band of the day was in style, typical teenage girl stuff. Yet as the little hand gently rested on the 9 and the big hand inched its way to the giant 6 on the bottom of their clock, Penelope decided to see what was up with the two girls foisted into her charge.

With all the silence of an owl, Penelope gently inched open the door to her daughter's bedroom, fighting every urge to scream at the sight before her: Heather resting in the arms of her daughter with her ear atop her heart while Cheryl inhaled the scent of her hair. Both girls smiled, clearly flushed in the throes of each other's company.

She knew that smile, and that flush. She was just about to close the door when Heather broke the silence.

"I could listen to your heartbeat forever." She purred giving Cheryl's hand a kiss. "My roller-coaster. My little red-head roller-coaster.

"I'm no rollercoaster." Cheryl whispered back. "I'm a bombshell. I need no reason for anything. I just simply am."

"I'm trembling." Heather purred sarcastically.

"Not yet anyway." Came an icy voice from the threshold.

Both girls looked up with horror as Penelope swung the door open violently and peered at them like a hawk. Before either could say a word, she croaked out the two words that in time would come to spell out their fates and set into motion a long-reaching series of consequences for all involved.

"Downstairs. Now!"


	4. She Said I was Deviant

The dropping of a pin.

The heartbeat of an amoeba.

The sneeze of a mosquito.

These were some of the things that Cheryl and Heather might have heard as they sheepishly sat in the dining room of Thornhill Manor. What they _did_ hear before the pall of silence was Penelope's voice a room away on the phone with Mrs. Michaels. Even with the distance and solid oak door, both girls could faintly make out gasps of shock from the later of the two mothers over the full nature of her daughter's friendship with the Blossom girl. After what feels like forever, the Blossom matriarch enters the room with a bottle of wine casting disdainful looks at her daughter and Heather. After taking three heavy sips straight out of the bottle, Penelope shakes with fury as her mouth curls into an icy grimace.

"When you're…the mother of…a teenage daughter." She began slowly. "You have certain…worries… _Boys_ , for instance. You… always…have to keep… on the lookout for… whatever hormone addled little…(she chuckles to make her point)…is lurking around the corner. Apparently I was wrong; the threat has been under my nose this whole time."

Heather opens her mouth indignantly. To which Penelope abruptly responds.

"Don't. Even. Try. To begin with me you little hussy." Penelope snarls. "I don't know your mother, nor do I care to, but from our little chat. I gather she makes Phyllis Schlafly look like Melissa Etheridge. She's on her way to pick you up. Pack up what you've bought and as soon as you see her car, get the hell out of my sight."

"And you." Penelope continued to Cheryl. "You are going to watch this little tramp walk out of your life. Any peep and I'll disown you. Understand?"

Both girls could only nod sadly as Heather went back upstairs to gather her things. From the solid mahogany chair in the dining room, Cheryl helplessly watched as Penelope's words became action. Once Heather came down with her sleeping bag and toiletries, Penelope dragged both girls outside where Cindy's station wagon was just pulling into Thornhill's driveway in a photo finish.

"No wonder Ian has had trouble with women. You steal any chance he has with your unabashed dykery!" The Michaels matriarch screeched as she greeted her daughter with a furious slap across the face. "Mrs. Blossom, I can't even begin to tell you how-"

"Don't." She said emotionlessly. "You and I may have never been close, but I'm sure you did what you could to raise Heather right. But you can only do so much to nurture. Isn't that right you little deviant?"

Cheryl looked silently at her friend in the car.

"My only hope is that this helps." Penelope continued as she handed Cindy a small envelope which she curtly snatched from her hands.

"We let you into our home. Fed you from our table, and pawing at my daughter with your slimy Sapphic hands is how you return our thanks?" Cindy sneered to Cheryl before returning to her car and peeling away into the night. When the two Blossom women reentered Thornhill, Penelope dug her hand into her daughter's shoulder and descended upon her ear.

"I ought to send you to a boarding school in Europe." whispered Penelope with venom. "Perhaps Surval Montreux, or the Badminton School could whip you into shape; but something tells me you'd like that arrangement, wouldn't you?"

As November gave way to December and the old year yielded to the new, Heather Michaels became all but a foggy memory to the citizens of Riverdale. Teachers found other prized students to dote on, Chuck found himself becoming a budding ladies' man among Riverdale Junior High's female student body members and the little house got bought by a new family who painted it white. It was as if they never existed.

But for Cheryl and by extension Jason Blossom, finding Heather was a high but secret priority. Being rich, they used the means available to hire a private investigator to help find their friend behind mommy and daddy's backs. This only lasted three months as the trail went cold after investigations at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy yielded nothing. A week later however, his services were no longer required.

On a quiet spring morning, the nation at large woke up to learn of a mass suicide pact made by children receiving off-the-books conversion therapy at the Sylvester Graham Youth Center.

So shocking were the details and magnitude of those involved coupled with the age range of the victims (11-17 years) that it shook the national conscience. No newspaper, be they as grand as the New Amsterdam Times or as humble as the Riverdale Register, dared to not cover the story. But unlike the other citizens reading of the tragedy that morning, the identity and final thought of the victim in particular rang some bells for the Blossom matriarch. One of the many photographs published in the article featured a simple cot beneath a window. Scrawled above the headboard in marker was a haiku which read as follows:

 _I'm sorry Cheryl. I can't be strong anymore. Stay sensational._

As she sipped the last of her tea, Penelope circled the name and message with a red pen and folded the paper in such a way as to further highlight the fate of her daughter's one-time friend. Grasping it, she rose from her seat and began to seek her out.

"Oh Cheryl…"


	5. Epilouge: Sensational Exhales

Present day

As was tradition in Riverdale, Saturday night was movie night, regardless of what's playing at the Bijou. For one member of the town in particular, time seemed to quickly lurch backward as she seated herself, the lights dimmed and the projector whirred to life.

The sensation of Déjà vu Cheryl Blossom found herself immersed in was as fragile as her attempts to remain both uninterested and tear-less through the picture show. While she occupied the very same seat and sipped the very same cherry cola from the concession stand, the harsh reality of her present situation would present itself just as soon as she got lost in the past. Instead of a schlocky B-movie starring homicidal poultry, tonight's film was a coming of age LGBT teen romance by the name of _Love Simon_. Instead of a premeditated night out with friends, she sought the theatre as an impromptu escape from her mother's newfound love of whoring, and found herself sharing the last-minute company of Antionette "Toni" Topaz, a South Side girl she chewed out earlier that day in the girl's bathroom at school.

But there was more than that.

From a distance, Cheryl presented herself like so many other mean girls all over America; rich, entitled, never accountable. Riverdale High became the Blossom girl's personal dictatorship the second she bullied her way into being part of the River Vixens AND coronated herself captain of the squad shortly thereafter. With social handmaidens Tina Patel and Ginger Lopez flanking her side as she trafficked in terror and intimidation, nothing on God's green earth appeared formidable enough to hinder the hurricane of gossip and snark that was Cheryl "Bombshell" Blossom. Get closer though, and one would start to see the cracks.

By her junior year of high school, those cracks in the Cheryl Bombshell façade slowly became all too visible; and only continued to grow amidst a reckoning of seismic proportions that shook her status as Head Bitch in Charge and saw others who personified some level of power to be swallowed up as well. Now, with half a year under her belt and a dark room to sit in, Cheryl had nothing but time and her thoughts.

She thought of the bloated, waterlogged corpse that once was Jason Blossom, the one person with whom she shared every innermost emotion she felt; and how it rested prematurely in a tomb after the cold, steel blade of a coroner's autopsy scalpel revealed the myriad of terrible secrets he held in this lifetime.

She thought of the equally affluent and agile ex-Manhattanite ice queen Veronica Lodge and the perspective _she_ had gained from _her_ family's recent fall from grace; perspective that gave her the means to not only dish back the bitchiness on Tryout Day, but ultimately oust her off the top of the metaphorical and literal pyramid.

Then she thought of Josie McCoy.

Because politics and business went hand-in-hand, the two girls really had no choice but to spend time together once her mother Sierra assumed the office of Mayor. Initially they put up with each other for the sake of their formidable matriarchs, but nothing began to take any root until Heather was struck from the picture. For Cheryl, the resemblance between both girls was uncanny to say the least, and a bit of a turn on. In the right light and at the right angle, Josie could easily pass as the twin sister of her lost girlfriend.

But when the chips were down, no boy or girl could ever turn Josie away from her true love: a career in music. And unlike the hordes of butt-hurt men who found that out the hard way, Cheryl begrudgingly choked back her disappointment the best she could. But at the very least, the Blossom girl felt she could "protect" Josie from the more predatory of the bunch, such as Chuck Clayton who in this climate of turbulence faced his own (and well-deserved) reversals of fortune after being unmasked as a chauvinistic meathead and booted off the Bulldogs. Though the Blossom girl would never say it out loud, Chuck put up a good attempt to win Josie over by playing the reformed bad-boy who saw the error of his ways. But when a series of creepy notes and a tell-tale pig's heart were suddenly left for the McCoy girl one morning in the music room, all the church attendance and comic books in the universe couldn't save him from being suspect number one.

Still though, that wasn't love. That was spite and she knew it. Nobody could have Josie if Cheryl couldn't.

The projector continued to hum and clack as the movie kept playing. At a certain point, Cheryl began to feel a chill descend upon the theatre and her investment in Simon's story increase. Though Toni was going to town on her popcorn and the man next to her was busy trying to get smooth with his girlfriend, she could swear that someone was holding her hand.

 _Did you know?_

 _I knew you had a secret. When you were little, you were so carefree. But these last few years, more and more, it almost like I can feel you holding your breath. I wanted to ask you about it, but I didn't want to pry. Maybe I made a mistake._

The feeling only continued to intensify as Simon's mom continued her monologue and tears began to cascade upon Cheryl's alabaster cheeks. Her delirium reached its zenith as the theater dissolved leaving her and the phantasmagorical image of Heather sitting side by side. Before the Blossom girl could open her mouth, the movie continued; only with Jennifer Gardner's voice melding with that familiar yet long-forgotten one which had been silenced all those years ago.

"I need you to hear this: You are still you, Cheryl. You are still the same girl who was the first to befriend me when I moved here and who helped me realize I was not alone in my feelings. And I know you're the same girl who despite her hurt, despite the walls of your house or heart can find it in her to love again.

Cheryl always saw herself in terms of fire, but as the image of Heather leaned in for a kiss, she realized how icy she had been this whole time as the frost around her heart began to thaw away. Once their lips parted, Heather began to fade away and the surroundings of the real world slowly returned.

"You get to exhale now, Cheryl. You get to be more you than you have been in... in a very long time. You deserve everything you want."

 **(later at Pop's)**

"Now you may think you mastered the art of silent tears, but I saw you crying during that movie Cheryl."

The redhead took a break from listlessly prodding at her shake to address Toni's comment.

"I never cry at movies. Real life's tragic enough." She started. "But…when Simon's mom…said he used to be such a carefree kid growing up…and then at a certain point…he stopped…being that happy kid…because he was hiding his secret…it just…"

"Cheryl…" Toni began with eyes full of hurt.

Whatever remained of the icy front Cheryl had spent years building since junior high crumbled and manifested itself into not so silent tears. Nuking every bridge that came her way wasn't going to bring back everything she had lost, or stop anyone from taking more of it away.

"Everyone thinks I'm this loveless monster." She sobbed. "But it's not true. I loved someone who loved me. And my mother destroyed it."

Naturally, Toni put her money on Jason. In her brief time at Riverdale High and through the occasional story that made its way to the town's south side, their closeness as siblings was unrivaled and some might assume bordered on incestuous, but in four words, the bisexual biker girl found her world blown away by the Blossom girl's revelation.

"…her…her name was Heather."

For Cheryl every repressed memory burst forth like shaken soda: every weekend sleepover, every secret glance in the hall between classes, every good memory came back as clear as yesterday. Now however, little things she tended to overlook became as clear as day; how the cool green grass felt on their soles, how the downstairs room where the two of them first admitted their love reeked of Fir Sol, how Heather's nose dimpled as she laughed and how soft her voice suddenly got when she cried. The fact that Penelope went on to destroy it all, and had the _nerve_ to wonder what her daughter knew about love while turning their home into a one-woman bordello only served as a truckload of salt to the wound.

"Cheryl I am so sorry. But you have to know your mother is wrong; you're not loveless, you're not deviant, ok?"

It was then that Toni took a bold step and placed her hand upon Cheryl's. She looked up at her classmate and felt her heart stop for a beat as their fingers entwined atop the counter of that little soda shop.

"You're sensational."

As their eyes met, Cheryl realized that come what may in their sleepy town of Riverdale, for good and for bad, she wouldn't be alone with Toni by her side.


End file.
